The D Word
by Fiona
Summary: An Izzy angst fic (Wow, there aren't many of those around, are there?) Izzy has found out something about himself recently that he feels will make his friends see him differently.


Disclaimer: I don't own Digimon: Digital Monsters in any way. Got it? Good.

Authors notes: I apologise for this, really I do, but I felt I had to write something like this. It's an Izzy angst fic (Izzy-And it's about time you wrote one about me!) about something close to my heart. This happened to me recently so all the errors you see are 100% GENUINE. These are the kind of mistakes people like me (Who is only mildly dyslexic and more or less fully compensated at that) make as part of our daily lives. This fic came from the fact that I word process everything because it means that no one will ever see the mistakes and I thought that Izzy may have his lap-top, or rather love it so much, for the same reason. This is written by him in 02 one night soon after he has been told that he may be dyslexic.

I repeat, do NOT flame the spelling, this is how dyslexics spell, I have not added any mistakes, nor have I taken them away.

The D-word 

Fate plays cruel jokes on us.

A nice, polite child, of above average intelligence, who is of good moral character, is a fraud.

A dyslexic. A moron. Someone with a learning _disability._

That's why I love my computer so. No bizarre transposition of letters, no strange substitutions in my spelling.

_No one can tell._

I'm fluent in my prose, agile in my metaphor and precise in my conceptualisation of my cause.

_And it's all fake._

I'll prove it. Here, I'll remove the auto correct, and stop the spell check. And I wont look back.

So what if I'm not what I say I am? So what if my mind slips and makes a mistake. I can see it and correct it. See me concentraite on this? See now hard I work?

But it will mean nothing if they find out. Then I'll not only be a freak because I'm smart, I'll be a double freak because I'm both smart AND dumb at the same time!

When I'm tired my mind plays tricks on me, when I don't pay attention, my mind betrays me.

I can't even trust myself to read aloud, or to present ot my class for fear that I'll do something rong. I can't fufill my dream of lecturing as my own hand would betray me as I write.

And do you know why this bane of my life was never seen until now, when it's too late? Because I'm too smart. Because it didn't matter that my spelling and English and writing skills were bad compared to my science and reading? It was average.

And then it was below average. I was almost in remedial English at one point. Me, a studient with an A average in Science, Geography, Music, okay I'll freely admit that my P.E. and Art left alot to be desired.

But _why _did they suck?

The D word most likely. For the same reason that I was constantly skinning my knees until I was fourteen.

You see, not only does it do strange things to your writng and to your way of thinking, it also manifests ifself as a lack of cordination. I can't throw or catch a ball. I trip over my own fet alot. I can't draw smooth cures or circles or even a straight line without a rluer and it hurts.

It hurts to see others take these things for granted, the same way that I took my intellegence for granted. It hurts that know I know that I cant seem to stop second guessing myself and wondering 'Would I have still've made that mistake if I wasn't Dyslexoic?'

You see, it was always in the back of my mind that something was wrong because of my English being so different to the rest of my work... I still remember when I was six or seven years old spending three quaters of an hour trying to remember how to speel 'a'. That was it. Just 'a'.

And I just didn't know. And I had no idea, but I knew that I _should _know. And that scared me even then. But as long as it wasn't official, I could prettend that I was wrong, that it was paranoia or anxiety.

And then he asked the innocent question 'Have you ever been tested for dyslexia?' And I tell him no and he sends me off for testing where they make me do spelling tests and read aloud and memorise stuff and do all the things I've tried so hard not to have to do decause I get them rong.

And he tells me it's for my own good. Taht I'll get extra time in the exams and stuff so I can read the questions peoberly.

But that means that the other kid will know. That I'm not infalable. Tath I have a scerw loose in my head that get looser when I'm tired or upset.

I can barely read what I've typed now. My eyes start to well with tears just thingink about this. Now do you ask for help, when you've never had ot before and taken pride in that fact? How do I sti and work when I know that at any moment my... DISEASE can betray me and show me to be even more stupid than the rest of them?

And how can I still believe that I can still achevie something with this _thing _hanging over my head?

It's like everything I've done before, all the work I've done so that it's barely noticeable is gone. I tried so hard to be normal. Not to be too good, or too bad, just nicely average.

And the world won't let me! I can be anything more than a freak, now and always. I can fit in socially or aaidenically any more. I belong to two extreems. The morons and the geeks.

A geek I can cope with, but the rest? I can hear them now... 'Why do you need extra time in the exam? You're better at this than I am!' And the looks of disbelief... then pity... then finally ending up as an outcast, unable to fit anywhere in the food chain because of this damn screw loose in my head.

No one would ever believe the smart kid was the one with the learningg difficulty, would they?__


End file.
